


umbrage

by Aleph_Null



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fluff, Foreshadowing, Lover's Quarrel, M/M, carlos is confused, cecil is disgusted, cecil takes coffee very seriously, prolly like mid-year two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 08:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8525725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleph_Null/pseuds/Aleph_Null
Summary: Cecil finds out something deeply disturbing about Perfect, Beautiful Carlos.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PageofD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PageofD/gifts).



> Inspired by a conversation [PageofD](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PageofD/pseuds/PageofD) and I had during which I appalled and disgusted him. (Look I'm not going to waste a perfectly good cup of coffee just because it's gone cold okay if you drink it black like i do it's not a Big Deal.)  
> If you like what you read and would like to contribute to further research into the ways in which cold coffee is healthy for you or possibly is killing you _right this moment_ maybe consider leaving some kudos or a comment, or come yell at me on [my tumblr](http://oh-fanon-my-canon.tumblr.com). That'd be cool of you.  
>  Hey.  
> Thanks.

Cecil hummed as he bounced up the sidewalk past Big Rico’s, waving jauntily to the proprietor, who was sharpening his knives in the picture window looking out onto the parking lot.  He grinned in the face of Big Rico’s scowl; nothing could dampen his mood today.  Due to unforeseen circumstances (who had ever thought that spiders could grow so rapidly?), the radio station had been evacuated, and while the whole ordeal had been almost as terrifying as Station Management roaming the halls in a rage, and while it meant that his show would be broadcast as a rerun or filler (he thought he had heard an Intern say something about some old cassettes they had found as they had all run for their lives), it meant that he now had a free afternoon to do with as he wished, and he wished to spend it with Darling Carlos - that was, if there was no serious Science being undertaken, in which case he would wait impatiently for his boyfriend to finish up.  He would suggest an early dinner and maybe some Netflix and Existential Terror, if he was lucky.

Rubbing his hands together in anticipation, Cecil bounded through the door to the lab Carlos and his Scientists had set up in the strip mall.  It was a sparsely occupied property; a temporary wall had been erected in the front of what had once been a tailor’s shop.  There was an IKEA desk, replete with unnecessary knives, and a couple of chairs up against one wall, though there wasn’t any immediate indication that they had ever been used.  People rarely called upon the lab; it was much easier to get hold of one of the Interns to deliver a message to Cecil to deliver a message to Carlos, and usually the things that people called in for that reason were perfectly commonplace.  He often forgot to relay the messages, so mundane were their subjects, like the wave of necrotising invisibility currently sweeping through Old Town.  These things happened, Cecil reasoned, all the time.  There was no need to get worked up about them, and Carlos had many important Science Things to attend.  He saw no reason to interrupt his important work with everyday life problems that would most likely resolve themselves.

He didn’t know for sure, of course.  He was a journalist, not a Scientist.  But he was fairly certain, from the things Carlos said in his sleep while dreaming about his work, that necrotising invisibility was not something he was interested in researching.

Cecil carefully maneuvered around the sharp desk and through the doorway into the larger lab space, the size of an industrial warehouse and about as homey.  There were tables and desks and lab benches everywhere, lining the walls and set up in quadrants in the middle of the floor, like an enormous classroom.  Off to one side was an addition the Scientists had made, a little area built out several yards from the wall and was emblazoned with strange symbols.  When Cecil had asked Carlos once what they meant, his boyfriend had said simply, “Biohazard.  Level four, so don’t go in there without a space suit, no matter what.”  Though Cecil studied them carefully every time he visited, he just could not see how the runes said what Carlos said they did.  At best, at a stretch, he could see something like ‘cloud light dog,’ which didn’t explain why anyone who went into the chamber donned a heavy looking airtight suit and showered thoroughly with bleach before they came out.

Scanning the lab space, it didn’t take long to find his boyfriend.  Carlos was hunched over a microscope about halfway along the wall, his beautiful fingers twiddling the magnification dials on the side, his lips curled down in a frown and his glasses smashed up against his face as he pressed his eye as close as possible.  He looked quite engrossed in what he was doing, and Cecil didn’t see a coffee cup anywhere in sight, so before interrupting his boyfriend, he stealthily sped along the opposite wall towards the communal kitchen area that was sealed off from the lab.

Upon entering the kitchen, he was pleased to see there was already a pot of coffee brewed up, along with the Scientist who had brewed it.  She sipped from her mug, her eyes flying across the notes on the clipboard she held in her other hand.

“Hello, Rochelle,” Cecil said pleasantly, edging past her to the coffee pot and the cabinet of mugs above it.

“Afternoon, Cecil,” she said without looking up.  “Here for Carlos?  He’s been glued to that microscope for hours.”

“I would expect nothing less.”  He scanned the mugs in the cabinet, settling on one that had atoms depicted as cute, cartoonish characters frolicking in the vast and endless void.  He pulled it out, added two spoons of sugar to it, then poured the steaming coffee into the mug, stirring as he spoke.  “He takes his work very seriously.”

Rochelle hummed, either agreeing with that or ignoring it.  “Tell me, Cecil,” she said suddenly, setting down her coffee mug.  “Would you classify spiderwolves as arachnids or mammals?”

A little surprised, Cecil glanced at her, in disbelief that a Scientist, of all people, could make such an elementary mistake.  “Neither.  They’re marsupials.”  The unspoken ‘ _duh_ ’ hung in the air between them; after a moment, she picked up a charcoal briquette off the counter and marked through something on the clipboard.  As she did, Cecil pointed at the briquette, raising his eyebrows.  “You want to be careful.  If that gets too sharp on one side, it’s classified as a writing instrument.”

Rochelle nodded, her tongue stuck out between her teeth as she concentrated on what she was writing, and turned the briquette over onto another of its corners.  Cecil set the spoon in the sink, picked up the coffee, and brushed past her again.  He loved the team of Scientists Carlos had brought with him to Night Vale (and he loved Carlos more than all of them, of course), and it gave him a little surge of pride every time he was able to help with their Important Scientific Research, even if it was just parroting common knowledge and reminding them of the local laws.  They seemed genuinely appreciative, anyway, and he knew for a fact his early interference had stymied at least seven potential incarcerations.

Humming quietly, Cecil wound his way through the tables and desks in the main lab, tracing a meandering path to his Carlos, holding the coffee mug carefully to keep the liquid inside from slopping over the rim.  To his dismay, as he drew closer, he did see a coffee cup set to the side, where he hadn’t been able to see it before; this didn’t flag his enthusiasm much, however, knowing his scientist was always appreciative of a fresh cup of coffee.

“Carlooooos…” he called when he was a few feet away, not wanting to startle him by appearing suddenly at his side.  The scientist held up his hand for a moment, made a final adjustment on the microscope, and then leaned back in his chair, turning slightly.  The light caught his face, shining off the lenses of his glasses and bringing out highlights in his beautiful hair, snared in a low bun to keep it out of the way, and Cecil felt his heart contract.   _Carlos._

“Oh, hi, Ceec!  I didn’t hear you come in!” he said, leaning his elbow on the back of his chair.  “Have you been waiting long?”

“No, not long,” Cecil said, swooping in for a kiss as he set the coffee mug down on the table.  “I had some unexpected leisure time, so I thought I’d come try to tempt you away from work for an afternoon.”

Carlos glanced at his watch.  It was just gone three o’ clock, and though his eyes flicked back towards the microscope, Cecil could tell he was weighing the benefits of starting the weekend early against the benefits of continuing his work.  He could practically see the scales tipping in his boyfriend’s head, first one way, then the other, until Carlos’s eyes lit up, and he knew he had won against Science, if only this once.

“That sounds wonderful,” Carlos said, standing and turning back to the microscope briefly to put everything in order.  “This can sit for a few hours,” he added as he picked up his coffee cup - not the one Cecil had brought him, but the one that had been sitting by his elbow.  “Or a few days.  You know, depending upon the linear progression of events through time and space.”  He moved to take a drink of his coffee, but Cecil threw out his hands.

“Carlos!” he exclaimed.  “There’s a fresh cup of coffee here, Rochelle just brewed it!  After all, how long has that one been sitting there?”  He held out a hand to take the mug from Carlos, certain that his boyfriend would shrug and hand it over; instead, a puzzled expression flitted over his perfect features, his eyes darting from the coffee mug in his hand to Cecil’s face.

“Well, a few hours, probably,” Carlos said, sounding perplexed.  “But really, it’s fine, I’ll finish this one and take the one you made with us - thank you, by the way,” he added with a sweet smile.  “You’re always looking out for me.”  And with that, he drained the cup in his hand, letting out a satisfied sigh as he finished.

Cecil recoiled from his boyfriend for the first time in - well, ever.  “Carlos!” he said again, aghast.  “That must have been cold as ice!  And without any ice in it!”

“No, more room temperature,” Carlos said dismissively, apparently missing the point entirely as he shifted the empty mug in his hand to take up the full one by the handle.  He turned back to face Cecil, and he stopped upon noticing the look on his face.  “Is something wrong, babe?”

“ _Cold coffee_ ,” Cecil said, his voice coming out as a strained whimper.  “You drink _cold coffee_.”

Carlos blinked rapidly a few times.  “I - well, yes.  Many people do, statistically.”

“No,” Cecil said.  “Many people drink _iced_ coffee - or _hot_ coffee - no one drinks - I cannot believe -”  He cut himself off with a shudder.  “ _How did I not know this about you?_ ” he demanded.  “You can’t just - just let coffee get cold and _then_ drink it!”

Carlos wasn’t just confused now - his face crumpled, though whether it was because Cecil seemed angry or because he couldn’t tell if he had just broken a law, it wasn’t clear.  “I’m not sure I understand,” Carlos said, still frozen with two coffee cups in one hand.

“ _Coffee is serious business, Carlos,_ ” Cecil said, stamping his foot emphatically.  “That is - that is _beverage abuse_!”

Apparently deciding he was in the clear, at least as far as the Sheriff’s Secret Police was concerned, Carols rolled his eyes and moved past his boyfriend towards the tiny kitchen.  “It’s just coffee, Ceec,” he called back over his shoulder.  “People have different tastes.  Just because you don’t like it doesn’t make it _wrong_.”

“It’s disrespectful!” Cecil shot back.  “It’s _not taking coffee seriously_!”  Carlos kept walking, shaking his normally-beautiful head, his lab coat swishing behind him.  Fuming, Cecil stomped towards the door, skirted again around the desk, and exited into the harsh sunlight.

 

“Ceec, have you seen my night time lab coat?”

Cecil grunted, hunched over his desk and scribbling furiously on a piece of paper.  He wasn’t actually writing, at this point, just drawing a harsh circle in the center of the page, over and over and over; his mind was clouded by the idea that his wonderful, beautiful, _perfect_ Carlos could be such a… such a _deviant_.  When his cold silence continued beyond a reasonable amount of time, he heard his boyfriend sigh heavily and move away from the doorway, muttering under his breath.

It wasn’t like he’d stopped loving Carlos; he was certain that, over coffee ( _coffee!_ ) in the morning, those messy curls and sleepy doe eyes would have him feeling soft and tender once more.  For now, though, it was like his world had been turned upside down.  After Carlos, the thing he loved most in the world was a good, neverending, steaming mug of coffee, prepared with the correct and worshipful ritual chants while hammering the beans into grounds, dark and impossible to sleep through.  The ‘steaming’ part was especially important.  He couldn’t reconcile his boyfriend’s nonchalance towards improper coffee consumption temperature with his own conservative upbringing.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, lost in his fuming thoughts, but he was fleetingly aware when the light in the living room went out with a quiet _click_.  He waited to hear the pad of Carlos’s feet on the carpet leading to their bedroom, but he there was no sound save for another soft sigh from the direction of the living room and the shuffle of fabric on fabric.  Carlos must have decided to camp on the couch rather than deal with Cecil’s petulant mood; fine, then.  He wasn’t sure he could lie beside his boyfriend tonight and actually get any sleep.  They were going to have to have a serious talk - but first, Cecil had to figure out what he was feeling and how to articulate it in a way that made sense outside of his own head.

With a sigh, Cecil threw down the twig he had been using to make marks on his paper.  He stood and stretched, setting his glasses down on the desk, then shucked off his work clothes and left them where they fell.  He climbed into bed and huddled down under the covers, grumbling mentally as he clicked the light off.  He lay in the darkness for a long time, listening to Carlos’s soft snores from the front room, unable to get warm and sleepy in the half-empty bed.

 

At some point, he must have dozed off, because he woke with a jolt, the ghost of a dream confusing his surroundings.  He reached blindly for Carlos but encountered nothing but a cold pillow and unrumpled sheets.  With an unhappy groan, he remembered that Carlos was on the couch tonight, and if he listened closely, he could hear his boyfriend breathing.  In fact… sniffling, just a little, and quietly, as though he didn’t want to be heard.

Cecil sat up, the blankets pooling in his lap, fully awake.  Was his Carlos crying?  Was his Carlos crying because of _him_ , because of the things he’d said, because of how wrapped up he’d gotten about the coffee?   _Stupid Cecil, foolish, foolish Cecil..._

In a flash, Cecil was out of bed, pulling a blanket with him and wrapping it around his shoulders as he stumbled into the hall, cursing the unseen objects that stubbed his toes and barked his shins in the dark.  He flung himself into the living room, zeroing in on the couch half by chance, and stopped only when his legs were pressed up against his cushions.  Just able to make out Carlos’s shape huddled on the couch, he carefully sat down, whispering his boyfriend’s name.  There was no response, but the sniffles were still coming, and Cecil placed his hand gently on Carlos’s shoulder.  He was breathing slowly, calmly, but he turned a little into Cecil’s hand.

“Hmm?” Carlos mumbled sleepily.

“Are you okay?”  He didn’t know why he was whispering; the only person who could possibly hear was the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lived In Their Home, and at this time of night, she was usually practicing her newfound ability to scuttle across ceilings.

“Cecil?” Carlos said with another sniff.  “What’s the matter?”  Carlos’s hands found his face in the dark, thumbs stroking his cheekbones.

“Nothing, darling Carlos, I -”  His voice caught on something rough, and he covered one of his boyfriend’s hands with his own, leaning into his touch.  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“F’what?” Carlos asked, sounding as though he was already drifting off again.  
  
“Waking you up.  Making a big deal out of… out of nothing.  Making you feel like you had to sleep out here tonight.”

Carlos didn’t respond, simply trailed his hand down to the collar of Cecil’s undershirt and tugged him down, so he was laying half on top of the scientist.  Warm arms circled his shoulders, plucking at the blanket and spreading it evenly over them as Cecil nestled his face into the space between Carlos’s chin and chest.  The couch was a bit small, but if they pressed close and twined tightly, they could manage it.  There was the briefest touch of lips to the top of his head as they settled in together, the sound of their hearts filling Cecil’s ears and calming him.

Then, suddenly, Carlos sneezed violently, his body tightening involuntarily, startling a gasp out of Cecil.  “Ugh,” Carlos said thickly.  “I think Khoshekh slept on this pillow.”

Cecil couldn’t help it; he laughed, and relief poured through him.  “Do you want me to get you a Claritin?”  He was already starting to shift, feeling backwards with one of his feet to plant it on the floor.

“No, it’s fine,” Carlos said, sniffling loudly and tightening his grasp.  “I’ll make it through the night.”  Another soft kiss, another sniffle.  “I won’t drink cold coffee if it upsets you that much.  I just hate to waste it.”

“No,” Cecil murmured, his lips brushing against his sleep shirt.  “I overreacted.  It caught me off guard.  You can drink it if you want.  Whatever makes you happy makes me happy.”

It was Carlos’s turn to laugh.  “I felt you shudder, you big liar,” he said, a teasing note in his voice.

“Well.  Just because I don’t like it…”

Carlos’s hand drifted to Cecil’s chin, tipping his face up and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, lingering slightly as his fingers sifted through Cecil’s soft hair.  “We can talk about it in the morning,” he said quietly.  “Snuggle down, sweetie, and get some rest.”  As Cecil shifted to get more comfortable, he felt a satisfied sigh escape his boyfriend’s chest, muffled only slightly by his cat allergy.  “I’ll still be here.”

Cecil felt himself drifting almost immediately, lulled by the rhythmic rise and fall of his boyfriend’s chest, the sound of their hearts beating, not as one, but in tandem.

At the edge of his consciousness, he heard Carlos’s voice, felt it rumbling against his cheek:  “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”


End file.
